The Adventures Of Oyabun and Kobun
by xXxAppleTartxXx
Summary: A series of one-shots dedicated to beloved Boss and Lackey as they travel seas, unravel skirts, get lost, and always end up the same way. Updated infrequently. Doesn't contain a lot of Dark!Spain-for once. Fluff by the plenties. R: T for Romano's mouth
1. My Sister is Actually a AssSucking Boy

**Author's Corner:**

_Well, well, wellie, well, well. Apple's going to try out some fluff to take a break from her angst/horror stories and write a little fluff. This is a little One-Shot series called The Adventures of Oyabun and Kobun. So creative am I right. _

_This series will include fluffily little marshmallow fluff so much fluff you might suffocate in it's fluffiness, just a tiny bit of angst that will make your heart clench a little bit if you are as devoted to this pairing as I am, and SUPER FIRETRUCKING LONG CHAPTERS since I can only have one one-shot at a time c: If you liked the one-shot and want a continuation, feel free to ask! _

_-Apple signing off~!_

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><p>Title: My 'Sister' is Actually an Ass-Sucking Boy.<p>

Warnings: Cursing/Mild Violence/Adult Material

PoV- Romano

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><p>Mornings. Let me <em>inform<em> you about _mornings_.

They fucking sucked, that's what they were. They always came too early, (that's _NOT_ what she said, damn it!), they always involved that senseless, dumb, un-witty bastard Spain, (Don't you dare say it, you!), and they were always too bright and blinding! (Ha-ha! Got you there, moron!)

In fact, this morning was all three of those things!

Well, whatever. I'm Romano. Or Lovino Vargas, but you can call me Romano. Not 'Roma' or 'Lovi' or if you have a death wish, 'Lovinito'. If you call me any of that stupid crap I'll shove a tomato so far up your ass you'll see _red_! If you're a girl, ah… go ahead… only if you're cute though! I can't be seen talking to ugly chicks! I'm physically three years old, but really, I'm about... a really big number that Spain hasn't taught me yet. That's not very old compared to my ungrateful grandpa. He was super, super old! Like Spain, only Spain's weird so he doesn't have lots of scars, although he does have some. I'm currently single, although Spain wants me to marry him, but fuck that, who would want to marry that embarrassing dipshit? Ladies, call me! I gotta get away from Spain and his huge ass house~! Mentally, I'm older than Spain, who is like, a four year old. I'm… say about twenty years old! Spain says I'm a lot younger than that, and I told him he could go to hell.

Alright, now back to the subject on hand.

So it was morning. Like, really early in the morning. We're talking about six thirty, maybe even seven. The sun was bright and fucking shiny, just as happy as the dope at the bottom of my bed, yelling at me to get up.

"Romano, it's already seven! You need to wake up! I'll drag you out if I have to, Roma!" He threatened, nudging my back annoyingly. Jesus Christ sitting on a tomato vine, did the bastard really think he could wake me up this time! Not on my watch! I'm heir to the great, overlooking Kingdom of Naples, bitch! When I'm older like my Grandpa, this bastard will be kissing my feet! …_N-Not that I'd like it_… Nah, he's way too nasty for that. I'd rather have hot girls like Belgium kissing my feet. I'd be ready then.

Before I knew it, the dense fucker had put his huge ass hands underneath my armpits, dragged me out of my warm, cozy bed, and held me out in front of him.

"Romano! I am appalled by your attitude today!" He exclaimed, shaking me to get me to open my eyes. I did, and when I looked at his face, it looked just as pissy as that one guy… oh what's his name… oh, Holland! Spain looked really mad, and I probably looked the same since I was only wearing a fucking nightshirt that only went to my knees. "Well, I'm glad you've woken up, Sleeping Beauty!" He said harshly, setting me on the floor. "Do you have anything to say, Romano?"

I yawned, rubbing my eyes. "Can I go back to bed?" I asked, stretching out my limbs. Spain reached down and slapped me on the ass, making me yelp and step forward out of impulse. "Fucking piece of shit of a boss!" I wailed, kicking his leg.

"Come on, get dressed. If you're not in your uniform in five minutes, I'm not giving you any tomatoes." He said from above, grabbing the fall uniform I was given when I came here. It was a gown, (not a dress, god dammit. Dresses were for my obnoxious little brother who could go die off in a hole) a deep beige color with red and light yellow checker-stitches on it. Then he gave me my apron, (which by the way; was a fucking hassle to clean with. I wanted to rip the thing apart) which was an off-white color. It had lots of frills and shit, but it was an apron. The apron I had before this monstrosity was the exact same color, just without the frills. Spain keeps telling me that my doubts about Belgium going all out with her sewing machine on the thing aren't true, but in fact the 'apron fairies' did it. I mean, I didn't actually believe in shit like fairies, but after seeing Mr. England in a fairy suit…

I tried to take my time getting dressed, just to see how set off the poor shit-wad would get. Unfortunately, to my disappointment, he just took over dressing me, sighing and muttering shit in Spanish that he was carefully picking from his vocabulary that he hadn't taught me yet. He made sure that everything was spick and span for some reason.

"Why are you in such a fucking rush today, Spain?"

"Your sister and Austria are coming over and I get yelled at by my boss _and_ Austria if you don't look as cute as you can be, Roma." He explained in a hushed tone, pushing my shoulder away from him to tie my apron in the back in a very sharp and tight bow. Sure, it looked nice, but Jesus Christ the thing was about to suffocate me!

"I can _feel _my ribs cracking, _dumbass_!"

"Ahaha, sorry!" He laughed, picking up the headscarf and wrapping it around my head, just as tight.

"God damn it, Spain!" I wailed, tugged at the godforsaken headwear. What the fuck? Was he trying to tighten and twist my entire body? I still had muscle (_MUSCLE!_ _That chubbiness in my cheeks, ass, and belly were all_ **MUSCLE**, _**fucking assholes!**_) on me!

"Sorry, Roma… Let me just tie on your ribbon." He held up a dark red ribbon that went with my dre—_gown_ and wrapped it around my neck and under the color. Surprisingly, the bastard didn't choke me to death with it since he knew I always hacked and gagged whenever I had the fucking thing too tight. "Alright, come on, we got ta' feed you." Spain muttered, grabbing my hand and practically running down the stairs.

I was given this blueberry muffin shit even though I was good and told him that I specifically wanted pizza. I ate the thing anyway, and whatever, it was food. I made sure to make Spain miserable while he changed and forced me to watch how a real 'man' was supposed to get dressed. I rolled my eyes the whole time, nibbling on my muffin. I mean seriously, the guy dressed like a hobo, made me dress like a hobo because he was a hobo, and he had the nerve to make me _watch? _Fucking retarded piss-hole.

The door bell interrupted his speech on how to tuck your pants into your boot legs; something I didn't even need to worry about because for one; I didn't have pants aside from this one tuxedo and one pair of pajamas. Spain wouldn't even let me wear my boots with those outfits, so it didn't matter.

"… We'll talk about this later, Roma. Come on, let's go greet our guests." Spain told me, picking me up without any warning. I screamed in his ear to put me down, and all he did was grin. W-Was I blushing? F-Fucking hell! I hate you, face!

Spain opened the door, setting me on the floor before he clutched my hand tightly, as if not to go run away and hide like I did last time. I hated meeting my brother! He was such a pile of mush! Always getting what he wanted! God, Austria was somewhat of a pussy!

"Ah, Spain. Pleasure to see you again."

"Same, Austria." Spain nodded, looking down at my brother. He smiled brightly, unlike when he saw me just standing there. He laughed, ruffling his hair. "Ah, Feli, dear! How's my favorite little girl?"

"Great, Big Brother Spain! How about my _fratello_?"

"He's doing great! Hey, Roma, why don't you go play with Feli?"

Feliciano, my brother, was always being mistaken as a girl. He looked almost identically like me, except he never opened his eyes, he never cursed or said anything obnoxious, he was better at me at everything, and when I say everything, I _mean_ everything. He had a lighter hair color than me. Mine was like cherry wood, his was more of… red moss… No, maybe a pumpkin on fire… Either way, it wasn't very cute to _me_, but _obviously_ not to Spain or that crazy, but kind of cute girl Hungary. My grandpa always told me in my many lessons of charming the girls; _never stick your dick in crazy!_ At least Belgium wasn't crazy. She was cute. Anyway, Feliciano had a higher voice than me. He carried more of the "Oh, I'm just a paperboy at the newspaper's place, aha!" kind of voice. I was told that when I was older, I would sound like a pizza guy. I didn't mind that. Pizza everyday. It was better than lousy blueberry muffins.

I clutched Spain's leg when I looked at my brother. Over the past view months, he had fucking really girled up. His hair was tossed around in his face, a warm smile on his face that quickly vanished when he saw me gripping Stupid Spain's leg. "I don't wanna." I said stubbornly, shoving my face in his boot. Hell, I was only as tall as his knee; I didn't have enough height to do anything else!

"…Aha… Roma, please? Me and Austria need to talk about big-kid stuff, alright?" Spain knelt down to my size and looked me in the eyes, the sight of a pleading man in front of me.

Ah. Fuck me… I ripped my hand away from Spain, smacking my brother in the face in one swift movement, (Sometimes, chorea _rocked_) and instead of running away like I would have, I was grabbed by the forearm by the idiot.

"Romano!" Spain cried, slapping the top of my head. "That wasn't nice! Apologize right now!"

I looked off to my right, seeing my brother sniffling with girly tears. What a pussy! Raised by a pussy, always a pussy! Antonio waited for a bit, but when I didn't respond, he stood up, keeping a fucking too tight grip on my forearm. He muttered something to Austria, bent down to my size again and muttered the same thing to Feliciano. They nodded, exited the house, and sat down on the porch.

"S-Spain, that hurts, stop it~…" I whined, making my voice sound as miserable as possible. He looked over to me with only disappointment in his eyes. I stood still, blinking back tears of fear. "D-Don't hit me…"

"Oh, I won't hit you. Hitting is wrong, but obviously, that doesn't stop you from doing it! Romano! You hurt Feli! How could you hit a girl? That's not what men do!" He picked me up by the armpits and sat me down on the top of the kitchen table. Ah, god! It's too high up here! Maybe if I edged off… Noo… I'd die and break my skull… "I mean, Romano; you're Italian! Aren't you supposed to love, cherish, and admire women? Obviously enough with Belgium… You just warm up to her like a _cat_!"

"Don't use Spanish, fucker. My brain hurts, now. Thanks."

"Romano."

I sighed. "You guys are really retarded, aren't you!" I accused. "You don't even listen to me when I say that Feliciano's not a gi-"

"Romano, don't use that language with me. And don't call your sister mean things. Sure, you two might bicker from time to time, but that is not how to treat a lady. We don't hit in this house, have I made myself clear?"

"Sure, Spain, whatever you fucking want. Just hear me out-"

"You don't sound very sure to me, Roma! I hate to do this to my _innocent_ lackey, but if you don't get your act together, I'm not letting you have pasta for a month."

"What?" I cried, tears beginning to prick my vision again. "You can't do that! I won't let you!"

Spain just sighed, (the fucking bastard probably thought we was stronger than me!) set me down on the floor, and grabbed my hand. "Let's go apologize to Miss Feli, alright?" I growled in frustration, feeling my face paint red. "You look like a tomato, Roma! Ahaha~" **Fuck red**, it was fucking crimson bathing in blood with a red mood light!

"Is Lovino calm yet?" I heard my brother chirp from outside. "I want to play with my brother~!"

"Feli, Roma has something to say to you." Spain announced, nudging me forward to him.

"I don't have jack shit to say to him!"

"Him?"

"Uh-Oh…" Feliciano giggled.

"_Him?"_

"Yes, you dumb dope! Feliciano's not a girl, he's a boy! I've been trying to tell you all day!" I whined, crossing my arms. "God, you're so dumb!"

"I've been trying to tell you too, Mr. Austria~!" Feliciano grabbed the loose folds of his dress, moving nervously from side to side. (See, _he_ had a dress! _He_ was being mistaken as a _girl_!) "I guess you never listen to your servants… Ahaha~!"

"… Antonio, if you'll _excuse_ me I need to go shopping."

"Uh… alright…Roddy…"

"Another case solved by Romano! _Gahaha_!" I grinned cheekily, placing my fists on my hips. Spain picked me up by my armpits, resting me on top of his shoulders. I watched as Austria took a frightening hold on my brother's arm, ran from the house and practically leaped into his carriage of pussiness. Meanwhile, I was on Spain's back, laughing my ass off while Spain just stood there, unable to form words.

Well, I guess I could stay here just a little bit longer.

But ladies, I'm serious. Call me.

Later.

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><p><strong>Author's Corner:<strong>

Hopefully Apple won't have these very often since she tends to ramble. She's still working on SBaR 6, in fact, it's sitting in a document on her taskbar with 3 motherfucking pages. :c Well, I hope you guys like Yaoi, because that chapter has a lot of it.

This is actually a series of One-Shots, continuations if wanted, updates sporadically. But, Apple will do her best, she supposes.

I should go finish this chapter and reply to that roleplay. :c

-Apple


	2. Scary Stories

**Author's Corner**

Warning: Fluff / Dark!Spain / Molestation / Scary Details / Big Words / Little Kid- Pirate Talk/ Spanish and French – No translations

POV – Romano/S. Italy/Lovino Vargas

Summary: Little Lackey believes that Big Boss is out to get him and cook him in a meat pie for breakfast since legend says- Spain turns into something awful at March 13th.

Title: Scary Stories

Rating: T

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><p>Scary Stories<p>

_Dear freaking Diary._

_That fucking French bastard is over. Spain won't kick him out. He's staring at my ass. Spain didn't notice. As usual. Fuck. Why is he such a dumbass?_

"Romano?" I heard Spain ask, plucking my blue crayon from my hand. "Do you mind paying attention to France's story? He's staring at you because you're not being a gentleman."

"Well, I'm not gonna listen! He's talkin' about usin' toys in bed or something! Toys are fer kids! Like Spain!" I growled, crossing my arms at France. He had this dumbass look on his face that was all puffy and weird; I mean, he was panting a little and his face was red. Like he just ran around the Wall of China. "And why's yer face looking like… like a teapot or somethin'!"

"I'll go get some coffee and juice, guys…" Spain muttered as he got up from his chair, setting me down from his lap on it. "I'm a failure as a boss…"

"Ohoho, it's nothing, Romano. It's just… what do those toys look like?"

"W-Well…" I squirmed, tugging down my gown. (The thing was always riding up—I wasn't sure if this was supposed to be like that or what.) "They're long, they have these weird little points, and they're all bumpy. It's like—a chew toy or somethin'. And then he has this set of these little furry… uh… bracelets… But it's so _weird_ because they're chained together! I mean, who makes dumbass bracelets like that! Ahaha! Only dumbasses!" I concluded proudly, tapping my foot.

France's expression was basically, trying to hold back laughter.

"W-What's the problem, wine-bastard…?" I said warily, stepping back.

"Oh!" France cried, plucking me up from my feet and hugging me into his chest. For god's sakes, it was smelly! He smelled like a dead fucking body or some shit! It was hard to breathe! "Romano~! You're so innocent and adorable sometimes… But on the other hand, you're a spoiled brat! Learn to fix that, would you? Then… maybe you could come and live with me instead of that lucky bastard Spain!" He whined, inhaling deeply in my hair.

"… F-Francis…"

"Ahaha! Hi, Antonio!" He chimed, ruffling my hair while he clung onto me desperately, a hand working its way up my gown and into my bloomers. I tried crying out, but unfortunately, the bastard was muffling my mouth with his huge ass cravat. "Romano was just talking to me about what fun you two have together!"

"…Give me back my Roma, Francis. If you don't, I won't go easy on you." Spain growled; a clang of glass heard from the table. Then, I could see; (thank god, I was starting to run out of motherfucking air) and France's crushing hold was replaced with Spain's soft, strong, warm hands. I was nearly bawling with fear (S-shut up! French people are really scary!) and relief once I was back with the tomato-bastard. "Gracias, Francis." He said stiffly, raising me up to his shoulder to balance me like a motherfucking baby. "Now, please, go on with your story."

"Non, non," France shook his head, grabbing a mug of coffee. "That story has long past. What about a piece of folklore I learned from you? I bet Romano would enjoy that more than… wine and cheese exports. Ohonhon~"

"…which one."

"Oh, never mind, Toni. I'll tell him later."

"No, which one is it?" Spain insisted, clutching me tight. "Boss wants to know."

"OI! Spain!" I wailed, pushing back on his shoulder. "You're crushing my _ribs_!"

"…Ohonhon… No wonder Spain has such beginner toys in his room~"

"…Toys? Romano has toys too. I didn't know… mine were beginner? I haven't played with toys for a very long time, Francis." Spain said, clueless, shaking his head in confusion. He set me down on his lap, patting my shoulder with his huge hands.

"Non, Tonio." He shook his head, smiling about how much of an idiot Spain was. He leaned in towards the moron, a hand covering on side of his mouth. Since an Italian like myself would obviously think they were going to make out in front of me, I kicked the son of a dirty bitch in the money-maker before things got out of hand.

"No need to thank me, Spain!" I said, chuckling softly. "I took care of 'im! Can I have some pasta now? I'm _really_ hungry." While France was falling on his ass, stroking his crotch like it was his partner in crime; Spain was looking down at me in disapproval. "A'ha… tough crowd."

"You should have eaten your dinner, Roma. France, are you okay?"

"That RUNT! I'll KILL him! **GIVE HIM TO ME!**"

I started climbing Spain's back in fear, tears forming in my eyes. He read that situation, and I'm glad he did. He was only useless for my servant when it was life or death! I suppose I'd have to kick him in his vitals someday too, just to whip the bastard into shape.

"_Francis! Get the _hell _out of my house and_ **stay out**_!"_ Spain cried. His voice was a lot deeper than usual when he yelled... at me. His arms wrapped around my chest and held them close to his stomach. I looked up to see his big, fat stupid green eyes darker than usual. It wasn't any darker in the room than it typically was, but his hair seemed to stand a little on end in his arms. His voice was a lot louder, he was actually pissed. "_Si no he sido claro, voy a conseguir __**mi hacha**_!" After all of that Spanish, I was a little dazed from how fast he was speaking. His tongue rolled in all the right spaces unlike me, who just rolled when an Italian usually rolled their r's. I couldn't understand him besides the word 'clear' and 'made myself'. Obviously, he was using Spanish because he knew it better than I did; hell, he invented the god forsaken tongue, and that I wouldn't know what he was saying.

France seemed to pale, sputtering a little. His blue eyes darkened a little themselves to a very cold icy cerulean. "_Non, ce n'est pas nécessaire!_ _Tout ce que je veux dire, c'est que je vais te botter le peu d'extrémité arrière 'tomate'!"_

I was so confused. I didn't know what Spain or France were talking about; I just tried to read their expressions. They were both the same aside from the occasional strong reaction. Once, France went on such a long spout of French and mocked Spanish that Spain had to take a step back, and he tightened his grip on my chest. I whimpered a little, just to show them that I was still there.

Spain looked down, set me on the table and took France's hat from the seat, angrily putting it over my eyes. "_Mantenga el sombrero sobre los ojos." _He hissed, placing a small kiss on my forehead.

After that, I heard a lot of punching and screaming, hearing Spain shout his famous 'Ay!' haphazardly. I peeked out from the smelly hat, my eyes watering up. They were going all out. Spain was winning, I could tell. France was pushing against him though, ready to turn the tables if he had to. Spain was tugging on his locks, shouting like the matador he was. He was an expert at timing, an angel in movement. France was just a pissed beyond oblivion nation. Nothing about him at the moment was elegant, loving like the bastard called himself.

I felt the tears fall and my legs rip ahead in front of me, running to my bedroom away from the quarrel. For god's sake, they were fighting over me! I had to hightail myself out of that shithole! Once I reached my room I locked that door as fast as I could, ran under my bed and shuddered like a leaf in the motherfucking wind.

Who knew Spain could be so outrageous? Jerk.

…

"Romano…" I heard a knock on my door. Still shaking, I crawled out under my dusty bed.

"W-Who is it!" I shouted. "If it's France I'll call the _Italian army_ on you!"

"It's Boss, open the door, Roma." He said, chuckling a little. Relieved, I hopped up to the lock and took it down, opening the door just a little to look up at my visitor. It really was Spain, and he didn't have that dark, scary-ass look in his eyes anymore. I opened it all the way. "I'm sorry for you having to see me like that, Roma." He said, squatting to look at me in the eyes. "France is gone now, and he's not coming back, so you can come out of your room now."

I whimpered, taking a wary step. "D-Did he hurt you?"

Spain hummed, squinting his left eye as he thought of a reply. "Well, not exactly," He pursed his lips, twirling a lock of his curly hair. "He kinda hit me a lot. I'm a little sore, but Boss can manage."

_Bullshit._

I lunged at him and tore a hole he had in his white drawstring top a little bigger to see that there was a very red—_very_ angry cut running from the center of his torso to his side. I gasped, falling back on my rear.

"S-SPAIN!" I shouted, flailing my legs. "W-What did I do to you? I-I'll kick his ass! I'll scalp his head!"

"Aw… Roma, I liked this top." He frowned, picking up some of the cloth with his fingers. He looked down at me having a spaz-attack, took me into his arms and smiled warmly. "Boss appreciates your concern, but Boss is okay. If you want to help 'im out…" He thought for a moment, placing his chin on my head. I blushed like no other, slamming my fist on his chest. I remembered his cut and stopped immediately, my face turning pale. He seemed to be unaffected. "… You could help me stitch it up a little and take a bath with me. Then we could have some pasta and go to bed. Does that sound okay?" He asked me, grinning.

"W-Wha? You mean you're not hurt at all? I-I mean… It doesn't hurt?"

"Mmm… no? Boss has had worse cuts. This one won't scar. It'll go away soon." He nodded, setting me down. "Can you get me the first-aid kit?"

"Ah… yeah. Sure." I nodded.

Wait. What was I saying?

"I mean… you c-can get it yourself! Aren't you my servant, god dammit?"

Spain smiled quirkily, ruffling my hair up. "Por favor?" He asked sweetly.

"…whatever." I rolled my eyes, slamming my fists onto my hips, strutting down the hall.

...

The next week, every time I mentioned France's name, Spain got a little less tense. I was glad to see that he wasn't being creepy anymore when someone mentioned the words 'French', 'Axe', 'Killed', or 'Bruised'.

I was sent outside to pick tomatoes by myself, since Spain wanted to see if I could do it or not. Inside, he was stuck doing paperwork with his boss. I never liked Spain's bosses. There was only one boss I liked, and that one was the first one I had met when I first came here. When Spain started to explain how great of a 'servant' I would be, he was interrupted by the king. He told him to 'Shut up'. I swear; it still brings… _tears_ to my eyes today. _Gyahaha~!_

Anyway, I got distracted a little there. So, I was picking tomatoes. I snuck a couple under my gown and into my bloomers. One was leaking and kind of staining the side of it, but it wasn't like I couldn't pull a prank on Spain with it later. I come in, covered in dark red, thick tomato juice. Spain freaks the fuck out and I say it was tomato juice instead of the latter! Ahaha! What a dumbass!

While I was distracted by my evil plans on Spain's denseness, someone was approaching me. Now I know that this was in fact someone Spain at the time had hated more than anyone else.

"'Ello, Romano." I heard him chirp, a twang to his accent that made my skin crawl. "Picking tomatoes? Very nice. How's Spain doing today? Where is he?"

I looked up from my spot, fear painting over my features.

"_Now,_ what's that face? It's just your good ol' chum, England…"

"S-Spain says to stay away from you." I whimpered, running behind my basket of tomatoes. England smirked like I was bullshit, picked me up by my apron and hung me to his eye level. His green eyes weren't like Spain's. They were a lot more cold, even when Spain was pissed off, they didn't look as rock hard as England's. "N-No! L-Lemmie down! I don't wanna eat your scones!"

"Aw, Romano… I wasn't going to give you any of my beloved cooking." He cooed, stroking my neck as he held back his ugly pirate laugh. I shivered, halting my cries for help. "I came to warn you about… tonight."

My eyes grew large with horror. "W-What about… tonight?" I asked, my lips wavering on each word. "Is it the boogyman?"

"No, runt," England laughed. "It's about… Oh dear, maybe I shouldn't tell you…" He murmured, placing a finger to his chin. "Spain would _slice me in half_…"

"Fuck Spain! Tell me!"

"_I don't know, Romano~" _He paced back and forth, the loose gravel of the walkway in the tomato field crunching under his blackish-brown boots. He set me down on top of a crate of tomato seeds, making sure it was high enough so I wouldn't jump off. "Have you ever seen Spain angry?"

"N-No… Well, kinda. He spanked me once." I muttered, my eyes faltering from his view. I tugged down the ends of my gown angrily, itching a piece of skin that had gotten irritated from all the tomato stems. "I saw him get really angry at France a couple of days ago; I suppose that's when he get's really angry."

"What did he do?"

"He started yelling in Spanish." I nodded, my curl bobbing into view. I blew it out of the way, brushing back my bangs with my fingers. "His eyes glazed over and he looked like something awful. Like you when you wake up from a good ass-kicking!"

England grit his teeth. "That's not even _close_ to how livid Spain gets when someone messes with his shit." He said between teeth. Suddenly, he shook his head, bending down to my level. "But, you don't care about that. Actually, something in Spain happens tonight… On this every night, every single year, he turns into an _immense_…_feral_ brute. His name is '_Conquistador'_ in this form. Even the _gods _fear him, Romano! He has an axe and a very sharp temper."

I was nearly shivering in my boots. "W-What does he do?"

"He hunts down his newest servant, knocks 'm out and throws 'm in a pot for breakfast!" England shouted, looming over me with claw-like arms. My eyes grew larger in dread. I collapsed to the bottom of the crate, my hands over my eyes. "Have you ever wondered why Spain calls you a tomato? It's because you _probably_ taste like tomatoes. I wouldn't know. You should stop picking these if you want Spain to spare your life because you've 'got a bland taste'." I gasped, looking down at my belly. It was full from all of the tomatoes I'd been eating… Oh _god_! I was _screwed_! No matter how many nightmares I had tonight, I couldn't sleep together with Spain! He might _eat_ me! "Mmm~" He hummed, looking down at my stare. "Looks like you're in quite the predicament. I'm afraid I can't help though. I have to go feed Alfred tonight." He patted my hair, giving me a quick slap on the face. "Watch out for _Conquistador_, Romano." He laughed, stepping away from me.

"England."

"Mm~? What is it~?"

"Get off my fucking property."

I spun my head around, staring wide-eyed at the Spaniard in the doorway. He had his boss right beside him, spouting out 'Shut up shut up shut up and get back to work, you runt!'

"Ah. I was just leaving." England grinned, his smile crooked and yellowy. I grimaced, standing up and jumping off the crate, running to Spain's leg.

"Yeah. Get out. Get back on the sea and go home." Spain said in English, his accent showing itself more than usual. His r's were accented, his t's were punctuated with a bob of his head; he was just an angry mess. England smiled, waving his hand in a form of a 'goodbye'. I grabbed onto Spain's pant leg, burying my terrified face in his loose folds. "Ay, Romano." He murmured, picking me up into his arms. "What did England say to you, hm? Stuff about Boss? Whatever he said it's probably not true."

"W-What's a 'conquistador'?" I mumbled, staring at his face. Spain looked really surprised at what I had asked. He ran a hand through his short, curly hair, avoiding my questioning gaze.

"W-Well, Romano," He looked at his boss, who was already on his way back to the office. "Oh thanks, King! You're a big help!" Spain's boss merely replied by flipping him the bird. I started laughing, although a bit warily, sending a thumbs-up and a very "profane" sentence in approval in my limited Spanish tongue. Spain gasped, slapping my underside.

Maybe this Conquistador stuff wasn't real.

...

Then night came.

Spain was in his bedroom, stripping off his everyday wear as if he was picking a tomato—it was such a natural, easy movement I seemed a bit jealous of his abilities to strip in front of a kid. It took me at least thirty minutes to strip out of my pajamas in front of Spain. He usually had to take over around the five minute mark. Whatever. Someday, I would be able to strip out of my clothes faster than he would. When I was older and surrounded by hot girls like my ungrateful grandpa. _(Call me!)_

I was standing in his doorway, (already in my pajamas if you really wanted to know, _you fag_) pillow to my chest while I watched him get ready for bed. He caught me in the door, smiled and beckoned me towards him. I shivered, thanking to God I threw in a few bars of Spain's homemade soap in my pillow in case he tried to pull something. I approached him, staring up at him with probably huge hazel eyes.

"Time to brush those pearly whites, right, Roma?" He asked, snatching my arm before I could run. I hissed, whined, cried, did everything I could. Spain just grinned like the asshole he was. "You know, you could do it yourself. You are growing up." He sat me on the counter, keeping a firm hold on my shoulder like always. I shivered, remembering what England had said. "Are you sleeping with Boss tonight, Roma?" He asked. I caught him grabbing my toothbrush and getting it prepared.

"N-No, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I have to lock my door tonight since the turtles might get out." He asked me, turning back to me. "You can always knock, but I'm beat. If you really need me, just yell." He tilted my chin up. "Say 'Ah', Roma." He sang, making that horrible smile.

"I'm not going to—Ah!" I was cut off by him invading my mouth, the taste of mint burning my tongue. I whined, my eyes tearing up. Spain always brushed way too slow and way too long, and before he was done I was sure I felt a little spark of fire and a few drops of the paste go down my throat. He handed me the cup of water and helped me spit, the bastard. He set me down on the floor, were I w "M-My mouth is on fire!" I cried, hopping up and down. "Spain! Help!"

"It's not on fire." He replied, rubbing small circles on my back. I yelped, sprinting away from him. "Ah? Romano, is there something wrong?" He paused, bending down to my size. "Do you need to use the bathroom?" He whispered, making sure to keep his voice low even though no one could hear.

I flushed, hiding my mouth which was puffing out in embarrassment. "N-No!" I cried, slapping his face. "I'm going to bed! Go sleep with your stupid turtles!" I ran away, falling right in front of the door (the bastard had ledges on his doors to squish spiders that wanted to come in to the warm, welcoming house by smashing them in the door.). I was expecting to feel Spain help me up like he usually did when he saw me fall down, but instead there was a large clang of metal. Spain's famous little 'Ay' was heard from behind me, and I had to get myself up.

"R-Romano, don't look at Boss for a second." He said quietly, a cold tone to his voice. "Just close your eyes, okay?" I spun my head around, glaring at him. I was about to shout about how careless he was, dropping something on me…

But I found a very, _very_ mortal axe instead.

My eyes were locked onto the deadly blade—only inches away from my legs. The thing must have been propped up on the side of the wall. Spain must have forgotten to put it away when he went out pillaging for new servants to cook.

"England was right!"

"What did he tell you?" Spain said silently, looking down at me, picking up the axe with cruel care.

"H-He said you hunt down your newest servant and eat them for breakfast in a meat pie on this night every year!" I cried, bracing my hands in front of my face. "D-Don't come at me, 'cause I know kara… whatever!"

I heard Spain laugh. Really hard.

"Oh, maybe I'll need this thing tomorrow." Spain smiled, his eyes grazing over the blade. "Not on you, Roma; on the English fellow. Unless you want to watch…?"

"Wait, you can kick ass?" I shouted eagerly.

"Who said I can't kick— … _Language, Romano_!" Spain seemed to snap out of his haze.

"You can kick ass?"

"… Well, I guess." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "And please, Roma, don't curse…" I felt my arms rise to my chest, my eyes growing wide. I felt my legs pitter-patter underneath me, excitement rising in my limbs.

"Y-You're _not_ a complete useless bum?" I cried, hopping up and down. "I live with an ass-kicker! My servant's an _ass_-_kicker_! Yay!"

"Romano; don't get excited before bed, come over here and sleep with Boss tonight. I super-duper-promise I won't eat you~" He laughed, picking me up by the armpits and setting me down on the fluffy, better-than-mine bed. He stepped into the sheets slowly, mostly because he was still sore and he was just a plain old bastard.

"W-Who said I was, ey?" I whined, stretching out my limbs before lying down. "I feel like I killed a dragon or somethin',"

"Aha, of course, Roma," Spain yawned, taking me into his grasp, falling asleep almost immediately.

Leaving me alone.

In the dark.

I really hated when he did that.

-Fin-

* * *

><p>Author's Corner<p>

So, Apple hopes you enjoyed this oneshot : It gives you something sweet to read over Easter, no?

Happy Easter!


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